


take care of you

by reginaswanmills



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Caretaking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Fluff, Non-Sexual Age Play, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Non-Sexual Submission, Submissive Emma Swan, Swan Queen - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:47:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23515648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reginaswanmills/pseuds/reginaswanmills
Summary: Because Emma’s never had any rules or guidelines to follow. She’s never had someone set boundaries or limits. She’s never had to listen to anyone before, and that’s why she considers herself a trainwreck.
Relationships: Evil Queen | Regina Mills & Emma Swan, Evil Queen | Regina Mills/Emma Swan
Comments: 74
Kudos: 185





	1. discoveries awakening

**Author's Note:**

> this is a story i’ve been wanting to write for awhile now. this is non sexual / no smut or sexual content. it will explore the dynamics of submissive emma, and her relationship with regina as her caretaker. there may be some slight headspace issues, but i have not decided yet. 
> 
> this is set in the canon universe, with magic and the enchanted forest. but the location is in storybrooke. the exact season and episode is undetermined. i’m just going to place it at sometime between season four and five, excluding emma’s dark one arc. that is when i feel swan queen is most vulnerable and close.

Emma Swan had never had to listen to anyone before. Growing up in the foster system meant that not a lot of people gave a whole crap about you. For her, Ingrid had been one of the only foster parents to genuinely care. 

There had been the occasional foster mother who’d tried and failed, because she was protecting her abusive husband or her biological children. Drunk, abusive foster fathers only wanted you to listen when it was an illegal, manipulative subject. 

That being said, Emma Swan had always played by her own rules. One of the perks of having no parents is that they could not tell her what to do. She didn’t have to follow strict rules, and she’d never been punished or had to face the consequences. 

“That’s why I am the way I am,” Emma explained, fidgeting in the big brown chair across from Archie. Her weekly therapy sessions — which not only had her mother and Henry insisted on, but Regina and Ruby, too — had gravitated more toward the beginning phases of her life. The abandonment, the fears and insecurities. They’d still discussed her reuniting with her parents, adapting to this world, playing hero and savior to everyone, breaking through curses and time warps, adjusting to being a mother, her issues with her own mother, and battling the next creature in Storybrooke; but today, Archie had been insistent on her latest act of self sacrifice. 

Truthfully, it was more of a defiance, if she looked at it from his perspective. Regina had teamed up with her and David, and they’d been ready to bust whoever was stirring up purple mist in a cauldron behind Gold’s shop; and Emma had been told countless times to wait for backup before entering, but she didn’t listen, yet again. 

She’d put herself in harms way, and sacrificed herself for what she thought was saving everyone. Regina had given her numerous lectures, to which Emma responded with a guilty face and plenty of eye rolls. Whale was able to detox the mist from her body anyway, and the only thing it’d been used for was to sedate people. The culprit was now behind bars, and Emma considered that a win. 

“What do you mean by that?” Archie had his legs crossed, brows pinched together. His glasses slid to the bridge of his nose, as he discretely tried to take notes. 

Emma shrugged. These sessions always left her anxious and on edge. She’d never been used to talking about herself — having someone help her through her issues, or caring enough to listen and want to help. It’d been an adjustment, learning she had people who cared about what happened to her. “I just mean, people didn’t care before now. I was my own boss.” 

“You mean you could do whatever you wanted, and now you feel like you can’t?” Archie raised a brow. 

“No, I still can,” she nodded firmly — because she was her own person and could do whatever she pleased, even if she’d feel guilty about it later. “But, if I’d had someone back then — I don’t know. Maybe I would’ve turned out differently.” 

“You wouldn’t be so reckless,” Archie nodded. Emma could tell the tone he was using, like he’d figured everything out. He used it quite often once he’d gotten to the bottom of things, Emma’s cold hard truth. It frustrated her to no end, because she hadn’t even figured everything out. She considered her mind to be a jumble of crazy crap, and didn’t know how this man thought he could decipher it. “What you’re feeling is common. The what if’s. I have many patients who feel they would have turned out differently, if things hadn’t gone according to plan.” 

It wasn’t just that though. She’d handled the what if’s, and there was no time to dwell on them. What she was hoping for, she didn’t know. Why she thought sharing some of her most secretive thoughts, after much prompting from the trustworthy man, was beyond her. Why she thought anyone would understand the word vomit that would spill from her mouth, or would actually comprehend any insane excuse she could’ve come up with, was beyond her reach. 

She could feel her knee bouncing more vigorously, up and down, and out of her control. It’d been a habit she’d tried to stop before — pinching the sides of it where her nerves connected, tucking a leg up under her, or crossing them. Though pinching only alerted everyone to what was going on, the tucking resulted in her foot trembling, and crossing them like a proper lady had never felt comfortable. Being a proper lady had never been her style anyway, a princess trait she was happy to miss out on. 

Her mother had taken notice of it before. She’d tried laying a hand on Emma’s knee once to soothe her, though Emma had jerked away and apologized about a thousand times.

The Mommy Issues was a whole separate topic. Snow tried, harder than anyone had tried before, but Emma felt lost. She was far past the stage of running into her mother’s arms anytime something frightened her, and Emma felt horribly weird and awkward any time Snow would get too close. Hugs were fine — calling her ‘baby’ and excessively coddling her the way she did Neal, made her insides turn and her skin crawl. She craved that comfort, but could not handle it from her parents. 

Her relationship with adult Neal had been the same way, and even her brief fling with Killian. They’d always insist on sloppily kissing in public, and Emma had forced herself to put up with the uncomfortable feeling of their lips on hers. They’d always try to wrap an arm around her waist, or pull her back into them when standing in a big crowd. 

It had resulted in Emma feeling incredibly disgusted, and wanting to sleepover at Ruby’s loft. It was something about herself she found incredibly acute. She welcomed close intimacy with a number of people — Henry, Regina, Ruby. Even her brother was able to get close to her without her body tensing. Snow thought it was just because of unresolved abandonment issues. Emma just claimed her body worked in a weird way, and the everlasting guilt hadn’t gone away. 

“Okay, Em. I think that’s enough for today,” Archie closed the notebook. A yellow one labeled with her name — most likely because of her yellow bug. “I’m very happy you felt safe enough to share all of this, but I know you’re going to be late for family dinner.” 

Everyone in town had gotten used to the fact that Emma, Regina, and Henry are family dinner on Thursday’s at Granny’s. She probably ate at the mansion far more than people expected, and Granny’s was her second to-go place. Thursday nights were Swan Mills nights. Friday’s were when Snow, David, and Neal were included. Saturday’s were Mills family movie nights, and Sunday’s were where Regina was dragged to the Nolan loft for a feast. 

She stood up shakily, knowing Archie had gotten used to this part of her routine. Often times, if she didn’t leave with red puffy eyes, it would be with jerky movements and a far off look in her eyes. Either she was trapped in a trauma or deep in thought. Either way, Henry and Regina were the best remedy for it. 

\+ 

Herself and Regina had become pretty good friends over the years. They were each other’s person — their go-to, their confident. Despite anything that happened, they went to each other first. In the beginning, it was more for Henry’s sake. Now, it was because they were each other’s best friend, even if it hadn’t been completely admitted in those exact words. 

Regina considered Emma to be the person she spent the most time with, apart from their son. She knew the blonde savior probably better than most, and would undoubtedly tell her in a heartbeat. She knew Emma, true and whole. Not just from late night talks on the couch with hard apple cider after Henry went to bed, not just because Emma trusted her enough to tell her deep sentiments, but because Emma was close enough that she could read her like an open book. 

She knew through Emma’s previous actions that her sessions with Archie often left her unsettled and exhausted. Sometimes, she’d put on a brave face and smile for Henry. Sometimes, Regina could see just heir presence brightening up Emma’s mood. Other times, times like today, Emma was out of it and all over the place at the same time. 

“Henry, why don’t you go order? Wait for Ruby to bring the tray to the counter.” If her incredibly bright and intelligent fourteen year old didn’t know by now that was his cue for ‘Moms Need To Talk Alone’, Regina would be shocked. 

Henry was smarter than most kids in his class. He knew that sometimes, Emma needed an adult. He knew his mother’s friendship ran deeper than Emma’s did with Ruby or Lily. So, Regina was not surprised when he smiled easily and slid out of their booth, reaching for the twenty. 

Regina kept her eyes trained out the window, watching as Emma tried to shake herself from whatever trance she was in; but she still looked utterly spent as she walked in, and hesitantly sat across from Regina. Her movements were quick and sharp, and she was in high alert, despite the tired face. 

“Drink,” Regina ordered, sliding her glass to water across the table. Green eyes studied her for a moment, taking in her expression to assure she was not playing, before lips wrapped around the black straw. “More,” she said, when Emma only took a tiny sip. 

Directing the savior to care for herself was something that had gone subtly, but something Regina thought about often. Emma sometimes forgot to eat, which would prompt Regina to text a reminder for their weekly lunches, or send Henry with leftover lasagna to the station. Clearly, prioritizing herself had never come first. 

“Good, thank you.” Brown eyes scanned her face. She looked about ready to crawl up in bed and sleep for ages, though Regina knew the blonde’s anxiety would never let her. “If you need to talk before we eat, we have about ten minutes. If not, we have time when we get back to the house. Henry has homework, and I finished the budget report.” 

Rest assured, Regina would be asking about how her session went. If Emma didn’t want to talk about it, all she had to do was say so. Regina would never force her to talk about anything, but she would constantly remind her she was there. 

“Don’t need to.” It took a few moments for Emma to gather her words, but Regina nodded. Eyeing the hand on the table, fingers tapping lightly against the red top, Regina slowly reaches out to cover it. The hand jerked, involuntarily, and Emma’s raised brows proved that. The fingers tapped a few more times, trapped between her hand and the table, but eventually stilled. “Sorry.” 

“Don’t be sorry,” Regina chided gently. Part of knowing the blonde, meant she knew when Emma wasn’t quite in the right mindset — a fact she tried to keep away from others, despite their public setting, and only certain people alike would be attuned to. “Just breathe. Henry is going to come back over here with our food in just a minute. If you need a minute, we can go to the bathroom.” 

“No, I’m fine.” The automatic reply she gave anytime asked, even if it was clear as day on her face. 

Henry did bring their food over. A cheeseburger and fries for Emma, a kale salad for Regina, and a chicken burger for himself — and Emma’s conversation barely held up. Regina could read their son’s concern on his face, but he was kind enough to not say anything. 

\+ 

“Love you,” Emma repeated, feeling Henry kiss her cheek before he headed upstairs. Listening to his and Regina’s voices throughout dinner had helped her relax a bit. If it had been her mother, she would’ve been all over Emma, immediately taking notice of her standoffish behavior and drawing a large amount of attention to the fact. That would only make Emma clam up, and she tried very hard to not put herself in that position. 

“I’m taking drinks off the table for tonight,” Regina announced, sitting down across from Emma on the couch. “Whatever happened during your session with the cricket, clearly has you shaken up. Alcohol will not make any of it better.” 

Emma could only nod. She knew it was wrong to be acting this way, and she wished she could stop. Wished she could gain some control over her body and snap out of it. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Regina asked first. When Emma shook her head, a hand came to rest on her shoulder. “What can I do?” 

“Nothing!” It came out quick and defensive, a little bit angry. She didn’t mean to. The regret flashed across her face instantly. This wasn’t like her snapping at Snow, desperately trying to push her comfort away. This was the complete opposite. She liked Regina’s comfort — relished in it and would never push her away. 

Fortunately, Regina understood. She always did. The hand didn’t get taken away, but instead began to rub soothing circles. Regina’s voice took on that tone it did whenever Emma could feel herself getting worked up, whenever she freaked out in the brunette’s presence. 

“Okay, Emma. Let’s just take a deep breath.” She kept her eyes trained on the coffee table, but heard Regina’s deep exhale. From the corner of her eye, she could make out the calm expression, not panic or concern showing, and the movements of breathing deeply. “I can feel how overwhelmed you are right now, and I want to help bring you down from that. You’ve obviously had a very long day.” 

She had, and that thought only makes her face crumple and the tears begin to sting her eyes. Crying in front of Regina had only happened a handful of times. The only reason it happened now, what she was chalking it up to, was because of the days events. It’d been long and she was exhausted, and Archie had just dug and dug until she had nothing left. 

Sharing always left her emotionally drained. 

Regina was being incredibly kind, putting up with her freak out and trying to soothe her. She wished she didn’t have to put Regina through this. Wished her body and mind didn’t betray her like this. 

“Oh, Emma.” It would’ve been an admonishment, if it hadn’t been so gentle and soft. “You’re alright, darling. You’ve had such a long day. It’s okay to let it all out. It’s just me right here.” 

Emma brought one hand to wipe messily at her tears, shoving them off her cheeks. It only proved in getting her hand sticky with a salty warm feeling, and her eyes leaked more.

“I’m sorry!” Emma hoped Regina would understand her words. It felt as though her words were trapped between the lump in her throat. 

Her day had been long. First, David had spent the entire morning talking about Neal and his fever. Emma loved the little man, but she could only take so much before her ‘Baby Brother Issues’ resurfaced. Will Scarlett and Leroy had gotten into it at the Rabbit Hole, because day drinkers really drank. She’d nearly took an elbow to the nose, and contracted a headache from their bickering through the cells. The ache had gone away when she’d arrived at Archie’s, but then ‘Therapy Session Gone Wrong’ had taken place. 

Now, she was openly crying on Regina’s couch. Something she’d never pictured herself doing. With their son upstairs — and her mother waiting for her at the loft, who would surely question her red eyes and demand to know what had happened. 

Emma was barely even sure of that. 

“Don’t apologize for being upset,” Regina’s voice was closer now, speaking directly into her ear. The hand had now moved from her shoulder to her back, providing circular motions for Emma to focus on. “Although, if you’re going to take more of those shuddering breaths, I’m going to get the trash can. Let’s focus on our breathing, so we don’t make ourselves sick.” 

Emma nodded, wiping her face again to no avail. She could feel herself coming down from the void she’d been trapped in. Green eyes blinked rapidly, trying to stop the flow of tears. She hiccuped a few times, and Regina looked like she actually might race to get the garbage. Her shoulders shook as she shuddered a few more times, before she could breathe regularly again. 

She hadn’t worked herself into an attack — and for that, she was grateful, because she was not ready for Regina to see those things. 

Regina stayed perfectly silent and calm, allowing Emma to relax herself, but never once removing her hand. She traveled lower down the blonde’s back, until she reached a pressure point at the small of it. She pushed a little bit harder, and felt Emma arch into it, leaning into the comfort. 

“Good.” She summoned the box of tissues from the coffee table, not willing to leave Emma to retrieve it. She plucked a few from the box, putting them in her hand. “Wipe your face. When you’re ready, I will go make us some tea. Not hot chocolate — we’re trying to avoid you getting sick.” 

The thought of drinking or eating anything made her feel a bit queasy. She was a bit lightheaded, probably from the amount of involuntary shuddering she did. 

“Thanks,” she rasped out, before clearing her throat. “You didn’t have to.” 

The pressure on her back increased, and she found herself embarrassingly arching again, though she tried to contain it. “You don’t need to thank me for being a friend, Emma. I would not leave you to go through this alone. Anyone who would is not your friend.” 

Emma nodded. She finished wiping her face, though the drying tear tracks would probably itch later on. After a few more minutes of sitting in silence, breathing in sync, she nodded again. The pressure was there for a moment more, before Regina’s hand was gone. 

“I will be right back. Make yourself comfortable.” Like she’d done so many times during move nights. Curled up on one end of the couch with the throw pillow and blanket Regina always kept out. She watched the brunette walk away, thanking her lucky freaking stars that Regina hadn’t hated her and left her somewhere to die, before she finally settled back against the cushions. 

\+ 

Regina used these few minutes of quiet to process what had just happened. It was no secret Emma had been through a lot. Their pasts, and the way they’d been rejected and misunderstood was what made them unique and special — that’s what Emma had said. That had been the start of when Regina had begun realizing the depths of this woman. 

She’d done her own analysis, and had come up with a multitude of things to explain the complexity that was Emma Swan. She tried to hide her pain as to not be a burden, because lord only knows how many times she’d been told she was. Though, sometimes, like tonight, the pain was inescapable. All Emma had to do was call and cancel their dinner, but she’d stuck it out for hers and Henry’s sake. 

Regina had been one to insist on Emma talking to Archie. She’d had her own fair share of appointments with the cricket, and had recommended it would be good. One of the few things she’d ever sided with Snow on. She knew it was helping the blonde’s well-being, but she would by lying if she said she wasn’t upset about whatever had made Emma upset.

“Here you go. Drink slowly,” she cautioned, handing over the mug. It was a simple green herb, something that would settle the blonde’s stomach. Regina knew from experience having to face Snow would not help her become any less jittery. If she detected even the slightest thing was wrong, she would fire off questions at rapid speed and that’s not what Emma needed right now. “Would you like to stay here for the night? I can have the guest room made up.” 

Emma swallowed a small sip, before green eyes peered up at her. “I can’t hide from my mother.” 

Even though Snow and Regina’s relationship was getting better, with weekly lunches and the common goal of family, Emma felt grateful Regina knew how overbearing she could be. 

“No, but you can take a break. You don’t have to go back to the loft.” The loft was crowded — with baby Neal screaming his head off and leaving noisy toys all over the place, her mother and the chirping birds, and even her father with his football games on the television. Too many times had Emma fallen asleep on the couch after movie night, or stayed over because she’d drank too much of Regina’s wine. 

It was a nice offer. Now that she was thinking somewhat clearer, in somewhat of her regular mindset — and she wanted to jump at the chance. Waking up with her son to Regina’s blueberry pancakes was one of her favorite past times. 

“It’s late. It’s dark. Considering what just happened, I don’t think you’re in the right state of mind to be driving or walking.” Regina was putting her foot down — or at least trying to, while also trying to not scare the fragile blonde away. 

Emma thought it over. There was no way Regina could have overheard anything said in her session with Archie. This was just Regina being a good friend, perhaps even her excellent motherly instincts taking over. She cared about Emma, and knew Henry cared about Emma, and did not want her to get into an accident. It’d be the same if she were drunk, and she was kind of wishing she was right about now. 

“Okay.” She settled on a half smile, before a yawn broke through. Glancing down at her clothes, she frowned when she realized she was still in jeans and her jacket. She didn’t think she’d left any clothes over the last time. She was too self aware for that to be an accident. 

“Finish your tea. I have some spare clothes you can borrow.” There was Regina, soothing all of her worries and finding a solution. Offering peace when there was chaos. Emma felt lucky to have a place to escape to, before she had to deal with a number of messes that had quickly consumed her life. 

\+ 

“Don’t look so surprised, Miss Swan! I know how to relax!” Regina teased, watching as Emma’s jaw dropped at the sweats and oversized hoodie she’d pulled from the drawer. 

This wasn’t her first time being in Regina’s bedroom. She’d been in there long enough to retrieve items from the woman’s private bathroom, when Henry was sick and his bathroom had run out of Tylenol. Now, she was standing in the doorway, expecting some uncomfortable silk contraption. 

“I’m not risking you accidentally transporting yourself with your jittery mind,” Regina had said in response to when Emma questioned why they couldn’t summon her night wear. She hadn’t mentioned anything about herself summoning it, but Emma hadn’t questioned it. 

“Emma.” It came out a bit smaller than usual, but still insistent. ‘Miss Swan’ was now only used in a playful manner, rather than the blatant insult it used to be. Even though the logical part of her brain knew Regina was teasing, she couldn’t help it. Her name flew past her lips before she could stop it. 

Regina didn’t seem to mind. She tilted her head, smiling, and warm brown eyes locked on hers. “Yes. You are Emma, and Emma needs to rest now.” 

Emma furrowed her brow, glancing to the alarm clock on Regina’s night stand. “It’s only 7:30.” 

Her session had gotten done at five, and dinner ended at six. It had taken all of two hours and a half for the incident Emma did not want to discuss. 

“You mean to tell me that bout of tears didn’t have anything to do with you being exhausted? I thought you had a long day.” 

“I did!” Emma insisted. Her cheeks flushed at Regina’s raised brow, and she realized it sounded more like a whine. “R’gina, I’m fine now. Henry stays up later.” 

“Henry did not have a long day. His day was easy, and he did not have a session with the cricket.” Another part of taking care of Emma, as Regina had learned, was her sleeping patterns. 

She’d been so used to not having anyone telling her it was bedtime, that she’d begun staying up past midnight at a very young age. Instead of being made to lie there and rest, or even comforted to sleep; whenever she couldn’t sleep, she had plenty of cases to work on, or cleaning to do. 

“Emma, it is very clear you do not want to talk about what happened just yet. That is okay. However, I know for a face that your mother’s devil spawn screams more than Henry ever did at night. It is impossible to get any peace and quiet over there. Here, I’m offering you a chance at getting a good night’s rest.” 

Emma could only avert her eyes to the ground. Regina’s motherly instincts were taking over. She knew from watching her scold Henry into going to bed, kicking him off the video games or banning anymore sugary treats for the night. It was something she’d always wanted as a kid, was for someone to care, and had told Henry many times he was lucky to have Regina as a Mom. 

“Take it or leave it. Either way, you will not be driving. As the Mayor, and the mother of our son, I will not allow you to put yourself in harms way. I believe you could cause serious damage if you leave unsupervised in this state of mind.” 

“I’m fine.” This one was more of a convincing whine. She knew she was acting childish. She knew her behavior was not one she normally took on. Not the fully capable, functioning, sheriff, savior, mother, Emma Swan. Not the hero or thirty year old woman she was. “Sorry.” 

She averted her eyes back to Regina’s hardwood flooring, and tried to ignore the brown ones searching her over. They scanned her face, as if hoping she would magically open up and spill whatever had been said at her session. Though, Regina was patient — she didn’t demand answers like her mother did. 

“Stop apologizing. You’ve had a long day.” As though that excused her. As though having a bad day in general, or something she’d revealed because of her big mouth, was reason enough to lose it on Regina’s couch and not be a functioning parent for their son. “Take these. You can get changed in my bathroom. I’ll make up the guest room.” 

\+ 

A good night’s rest was exactly what she’d gotten. The guest room bed was bigger and far more comfier than the dinky twin sized one she had in the loft. There was no screaming toddler waking her up at three in the morning. No hushed voices or squeaky toys. No sunlight shining in through curtainless windows, because Snow refused to block out natures light. 

When her eyes had fluttered open and she’d woken up in a pleasant way she hadn’t in months, the alarm read nine thirty. It was Friday — which meant that Henry had school. Emma had work. Regina had work. 

The events of last night came flooding back as she stumbled into the bathroom. The embarrassing session with Archie. Her embarrassing break down on Regina’s couch. Everything about last night brought her a great deal of guilt. It settled in her stomach and twisted like a knife, knowing she would have to face the consequences of her actions today. 

( Except the comforting. Regina’s comforting only made her realize how great of a friend she had. )

“Good morning, Emma! You’re finally awake!” It wasn’t the first time she’d awoken to Regina cooking breakfast. Before, she would stroll around in a pair of silk pajamas — something very few had ever seen her in, that being Emma and Henry. This morning, she had on casual wear, something she’d never worn before; a pair of black leggings and a hoodie, identical to the oversized one she’d loaned to Emma. “Pancakes are on the the table. They’re still fresh and warm.” 

The table was cleared of the dishes that usually mounted in Henry’s spot. Instead, there was only a pitcher of orange juice and her own plate of pancakes. Fluffy butter milk with blueberries — just as Emma had dreamed of. 

“Here, I’ve added your cream and sugar. Heaps of unhealthy things, just as you like,” Regina shoved a mug into her hand. The coffee, lightened with the french vanilla creamer stowed away just for her, gave her the zap of energy she’d needed to speak. 

“Henry?”

“School,” Regina collected the pitcher of juice, making her way to the fridge. “He checked on you before he left, and is currently telling all of his friends you sleep like the dead.” 

Her cheeks flushed. “It was the first night I didn’t have a kid screaming in my ear.” 

“I don’t know why you haven’t moved out yet,” Regina moved to the dishwasher. “Sleeping there cannot be comfortable for anybody.” 

( Probably because, as overbearing as her mother could be and as annoying as their constant doting was, she couldn’t bring herself to live alone. She would never survive, in her own opinion. She hadn’t lived on her own in years, since before Henry and before Storybrooke. She couldn’t do it now. ) 

Emma shrugged, piling a few bites of her pancakes into her mouth. “Shouldn’t you be at work?” 

It came out muffled around her food, causing Regina to chuckle. “Don’t talk with your mouth full, dear. I don’t wish to see you choking.” 

Emma waited until her food was swallowed. “Work?” 

“I’ve called both Aurora and David to let them know neither of us will be in for the day.” 

Her eyes nearly popped out of her head. She dropped her fork to the table. The clattering sound caused Regina to turn, eyebrows raised. 

“What the hell? Why would you do that?” 

“We both have more than enough sick days. After last night, I would’ve thought you needed it. Whatever happened with Archie made you very upset, and I thought you would want to discuss it today.” 

( Because they had in the past. Regina probably knew more than Archie did. Knew about all of the drunk, abusive foster dads; and the fake, insulting foster moms. Knew of Lily and Neal, and what life was like behind bars. Knew of every Mommy Issue she had with Snow White, and how she hated it when David called her ‘Princess.’ 

In turn, Emma knew about Regina’s past life. Her relationship with Cora, and how it had affected her. How Gold and Cora had groomed her, and Maleficent had taken her under her wing. ) 

“I’m sorry about last night, R’gina. I appreciate you being there, but it won’t happen again. It was a freak accident. I couldn’t control it.” 

Regina took a step closer. Emma was standing now, defensive. “I’m not blaming you, Emma. I am your friend, and I want to help you. If it was bad enough for you to get detached from dinner, I think we should talk about it. If Archie made you that upset, perhaps you should consider a different therapist?” 

“What — no, Regina! Archie didn’t do anything! It was all me! It was what I said, what I told him!” She visibly tensed. She hadn’t meant to even say this much. Although talking about things with Regina usually made her feel better, she didn’t even think she could put this into words for her to understand. There was no way in hell she was going to risk her relationship with Regina, because she can’t wrap her head around a thought. “What I — accidentally told him. I didn’t mean to. It just kind of slipped out.” 

“What was it, Emma?” She pressed gently. Her concern for the blonde was escalated. Clearly, she was still shaken up over it. If Regina needed to fire the cricket and ban his psychology license, she would in a heartbeat. Emma did not deserve to be this upset about something.

Emma opened her mouth, but no words could come out. She had no idea what to even say. She had no idea what had even made her so upset about this in the first place — the embarrassment, the judgement, the fear. They’d barely even gotten to the route of things before she had bolted. 

This was her moment. A moment in which she had Regina’s undivided attention. A moment in which she could tell her all of the confusing things swarming in her head, and they would fix it — because they were an amazing team, and had defeated freaking Peter Pan together. 

Her phone rang. Loud and clear, and the distinct ringtone of something she would dread. Either her mother with about a dozen questions, or her father calling her in on a scheduled day off, because lord only knows what cellmate needed her attention now. 

It was Archie. 

“Hello?” She furrowed her brows, wondering why he would be calling at nine in the morning. “If this is about Pongo, maybe you should consider keeping him inside.” The last time she’d chased the dog, she’d nearly fallen in several muddy puddles. 

Archie’s laugh rang through. “No, Emma. Pongo is fine! He’s spending the day with Leroy actually! I’ calling about you.” 

“About me?” She turned her back, so she wouldn’t have to look at Regina’s furrowed brows anymore. The brunette was obviously confused, and Emma couldn’t handle more than one person at a time right now. 

“I’ve just had a slot open up. After our discussion yesterday, I was wondering if you’d like to come in. We can talk more about everything.” 

“I, uh. . .” Regina had scheduled a day off to talk to her. A day off to listen to Emma and all of her jumbled up nonsense. She’d taken care of Emma, comforting her and offering her a place to stay. Offering her clothes and cooking breakfast. She’d even called in sick for her. “I’ll have to see.” 

“Okay, that’s fine! The opening is from one to two, if you’re interested. Just give my secretary a heads up!” 

Clicking off the phone, Emma took a few deep breaths. Both of her consequences were coming now. She’d barely been awake for twenty minutes. Both Regina and Archie wanted to talk, and Emma would have to be the one explaining. Explaining the confusing string of barely legible sentences that she would be able to form. 

“Emma.” Regina’s voice was closer. Not quite in her ear, but the soft pads against the kitchen floor alerted her that she was moving. “Emma, take a deep breath.” 

She opened her mouth, but found she could not bring herself to do much more than that. A shudder ripples through, her back and her ribcage. Shoulders shook. Hands clenched into fists. If she were alone, she probably would’ve thought she was sending herself into a panic attack. 

“Deep breaths.” The hand was on her back again. The presence from yesterday had returned. It fit right into the small arch, and applied steady pressure. Where Regina had learned to do that — perhaps from a dozen anxiety pamphlets she’d read once Henry started the ninth grade. — and why she was doing it, Emma did not know. She just knew that the pamphlets were right. This did help. “In and out, Emma. I need you to take a deep breath with me.” 

Regina counted — and Emma did not have a clue how they’d even ended up in this position. How they’d gone from hating each other to being co-parents. How she’d gone from waking up to fluffy pancakes, to feeling like she couldn’t breathe. 

Regina didn’t make it to seven. She made it to three, before Emma’s holding breath gave out on her. Her body shuddered, not allowing her to inhale a deep one. She still didn’t look in Regina’s general area. She kept her eyes on the color of the walls, a soft yellow. The picture of a young Mom Regina and a toddler Henry with aprons, probably baking cookies. The wooden spatula collection hanging on the wall, and the metal trash bin in the corner. 

“Again,” Regina instructed. More pressure applied to her back. Emma tried to lean into it, but Regina refused to let her wobble. That one hand was keeping her anchored, keeping her from leaning back too far and falling over. “You can take a deep breath. I know you can.” 

Emma tried again. This time, she made a gasping sound. She held it to five, before blowing it out. 

( Nobody had ever made her breathe before. Nobody had ever cared enough to guide her through something like this. It was strange, seeing Regina guide her panicked body through the motions, and never once let her go. ) 

“We’re not stopping,” Regina said, when Emma didn’t immediately try again. “Another one.” 

She made it to six. No tears were coming, though a cold wind was cooling her eyes and giving her the urge to cry. She couldn’t actually form tears. 

“Another.” She made it to seven. The pressure increased. She tried again to lean back into it, to absorb that pressure and concentrate on nothing but the hand pushing against her back, but Regina refused. “No, another one.” Another deep breath. A successful one. “Another.” How the pressure continuously increased without causing pain, she did not know. “One more.” 

Emma blew out the last instructed breath, but did not let up her breathing ritual for several moments. Regina’s counting stopped — though, with each inhale and exhale, the pressure became more. It was almost heavy, a focus point. 

“Good,” Regina’s voice was soft and directly beside her ear. Emma let her eyes flutter closed. She swayed slightly, a bit unsteady on her feet. Once again, she tried to lean back more. Tried to push through Regina’s hand to reach — well, Regina’s hand. It didn’t make any sense, even to her. “Stop leaning back. My hand is right here. I am not going anywhere.” 

Emma nodded fast. Blonde curls shook. She could feel the onslaught of tears welling up now, though she squeezed her eyes shut tightly and wished she could magic them away. 

“Feel this pressure?” Regina hummed. Emma nodded again. “Good.” A coo, as though she was talking to baby Neal, or one of Kathryn’s offsprings. “Keep feeling it. Just relax and breathe.” 

Emma nodded again. A few stray tears slipped out from behind closed lids. She was about to raise a hand to wipe them, when Regina’s free hand caught hers. 

“Let it happen, Emma. You’re overwhelmed and upset, and it’s okay. It’s okay to be upset. You do not have to hide your pain for anyone, especially me.” Emma clutched tightly to the hand. She was the least bit aware she was probably hurting Regina, but a thumb caressed her knuckles softly. 

“Let it happen, sweet Emma.” That was new. It was new and confusing, and probably a little bit scary. Emma could not contain the small sob that escaped from the back of her throat. “You did so good. Keep breathing. I am right here.” 

+

She had remained quiet for the better half of an hour. Focusing on her breathing and sitting down seemed more important. Regina had lead her to sit on the couch, placing a glass of water on the stand. 

She’d even grabbed the trash can and a box of tissues, sitting down beside Emma. She didn’t touch her again — not yet, because after something like that, she was unsure if Emma would want to be touched. She was unsure if Emma even wanted to be here. 

Whatever was running through her mind had caused this, and that part broke Regina’s heart. Seeing Emma panic like that broke her heart. She had endured her own fair share of panic attacks — back in Leopold’s castle in the Enchanted Forest, when her mother was ruling her life and marrying her off to an old man. Later, she’d found help and alternative methods to panicking. 

Now, she hadn’t had an attack in years. Since before Peter Pan’s curse. 

“Sorry.” Blonde curls splayed against them back of the couch. When Regina looked over, green eyes were locked on her. They were tired and sunken in, and she wouldn’t be surprised if Emma fell asleep again. She knew these attacks took a lot out of a person. She was surprised Emma could even speak. “Archie.” 

“Archie was on the phone?” She had gathered that much. “Did he say something to upset you?” 

Emma sucked in her top lip, unsure of how to respond. Her voice was raspy and raw after the incident, and she didn’t even know what words to say to explain anything. “Have to — office.” 

Words were a foreign concept right now. She sounded drunk — like all those times she stumbled into her apartment in Boston, after a night in the downtown bar with alcohol as her only friend. 

“You have to go in?” Regina raised a brow. Emma nodded slowly. “Do you want to?” Again, the nod was slow, but more hesitant. Eyes drew away from her, and down to the water. “Do you want a drink?” A nod, and Regina was lifting the iced glass up, directing the straw into Emma’s mouth. She didn’t let go when pale hands attempted to hold it. “You’re still shaky.” 

Leaning back against the cushions, Emma blew out a long breath. “Sorry.” 

“Do not apologize,” Regina said, setting the glass back on the stand. “Your body just took a lot of energy out. Your magic is probably feeling pretty low, and you’re feeling tired again. You can close your eyes and go to sleep.”

“Archie.” A simple name, of the man who’d this had all begun with. 

“Can wait,” Regina affirmed. “You need some more rest. It won’t do anyone any good if you’re stumbling around town after that.” 

After what — was the question. A panic attack? Could she even call it that? She had been at a loss for breath, unable to form words or think clearly. Regina had been her only focus point. 

Whatever it was, Emma knew she did not want to go through that again. 

+

The further rest she had gotten had given her the courage to convince Regina she would be fine with Archie. She understood the woman’s concern, but she hadn’t meant for any of this to happen. She was fine, and she would be even better after talking to the therapist. 

( “I’m serious, Emma. You can call me at any point. If you want to leave early, or if you need a ride home.” Regina’s voice had taken on the same time it did whenever she let Henry leave for a sleepover. 

“I know.” She sighed, reaching for her cell phone. She paused. She couldn’t just leave, not without apologizing. Regina had scheduled her entire day off, just to talk with Emma, and here she was ditching her. “I’m sorry for leaving.” 

But, Regina was kind and patient. “Don’t be sorry. You’re getting the help you need to overcome this. Whatever it is, we can discuss it when you are ready. I will still be here for dinner, and so will you.” ) 

That summed up her evening plans. Maybe she wouldn’t have to answer her mother’s spam questions face to face. 

“Emma! I’m so glad you could make it!” There was Archie, sitting in his chair with tiny glasses and that stupid smile. He assessed her attire as she sat down — the attire Regina had summoned from her closet at the loft. “Were you not working today?” 

“I was taking a personal day.” She left out the part about Regina. He didn’t need to know that, despite how much the town was clued into their family dynamic already. 

“I see.” That stupid, all knowing hum. “Well, I called you in here to see how you were doing. You were very upset after our last meeting.” 

( Their last meeting, as if it wasn’t just yesterday. As if it hadn’t been less than twenty four hours since she’d begun to reveal the most hidden part of her life. ) 

“Therapy is never fun.” 

Archie chuckled at that. “No, it is not. It is about helping, though. I want to help you.”

Emma nodded. She swallowed the lump in her throat — the lump of anticipation at what was to come. She knew Archie was bound by confidentiality contracts, and his ‘honest man’ code; but he was also a friend. Telling anyone about her inner psyche had never been the plan, much less digging a hole this deep. 

“Yesterday, we were talking about the what if’s.” He dug out the notebook. The book of everything she’d shared — a Pandora’s box of sorts. “Would you like to elaborate on that?” 

“It’s not that.” Sighing, she ran a hand through her hair. It was yet another one of her nervous ticks. She had to have something to do with her hands, otherwise they would start shaking. 

“Then what is it?” Kind and patient, always. 

“I don’t know!” She was growing frustrated yet again. If she didn’t know herself, how the hell did he expect her to explain it? 

“Okay,” Archie skimmed through her notes. “Not listening, stemming from childhood behavioral issues, which stems from not having a steady parental figure in your life.” 

( Not listening. Regina had given explicit orders to not bust the culprit alone. She’d been clear and firm, nearly as demanding as she was when she forbid Henry from doing something. But Emma hasn’t listened. Adrenaline was pumping, because they hadn’t had a monster related issue in weeks; and fear was coursing through her, because they did not need another curse affecting this family. ) 

“‘That’s why you are the way you are.’” He quoted her from yesterday, and she instantly regretted her words. “If not the what if’s, then what is making you feel this way? That is our question. Do you feel as though you carry over behaviors from your childhood? Like you’re still a child?” 

( She was not, in fact, a child. She was a fully grown, capable adult. 

But, behaviors carrying over from her childhood? Regina always said she ate like a child — though, she never took up real issue with it, rather than wiping away crumbs from her mouth or offering a napkin. She’d called her a petulant child more times than she could count, but she’d never treated Emma as though she was beneath her. She’d always handled their crisis’ with patience and care. She’d always directed the room, demanded attention; and Emma was more than happy to give it. As long as she herself didn’t have to be in charge.

Regina was good at being in charge. If anyone knew the answer to these questions, it would be her. She spent the most time with her. ) 

She did the shrug thing. The shrug thing she did whenever she could feel herself being put into an embarrassing situation, or whenever the attention was put on her. She had no idea how to respond to this. What was Archie getting at? 

“I don’t know.” Her parents desperately wanted her to be one. It was evident in the way they treated her — more so, her mother than her father. 

( She and Archie had already discussed ‘Replacement Baby Neal.’ It wasn’t a subject Emma brought up often — once around Regina, never around her parents. But, at times, it did feel as though they were getting their do over. Emma did not want to be like Baby Neal. She did not want her parents coddling her, or feeding her with a spoon, or spending every waking moment by her side. ) 

“I don’t want to be a child. I don’t want to be their child.” It was obvious who she was referring to — Snow and Davide. 

“But you want to be somebody’s child?” She did. Many years ago she did — perhaps even at times in Storybrooke. She spent countless nights of her youth crying over how unfair it was that she did not have parents, whilst other children did. Even within her first year in Storybrooke, she’d wished she had a family, or was at least adopted. 

Now, she was lucky and grateful to have Snow and David, lucky to have even found them in the first place. However, accepting the role of their child was harder to grasp then accepting the role of Henry’s mother. 

What she knew now, what Archie was straining to say in sentences — was that everyone wished to have someone who’d cared for them, and she was no exception. 

“I don’t want to be a child,” she repeated firmly. “I’m the Sheriff. I’m the Savior. I’m not a kid.” 

“I know you’re not, Emma.” Gentle, assuringly her of her worst fear at the moment. He changed tactics. “I can tell this is frustrating you. I can tell you want to get to the bottom of this, as do I.” 

( He had no idea either. Just brilliant. ) 

“I have some recommendations.” He reached for a folder — pale, the kind they’d used in hospitals, with her name written on the top. Of course, he’d already had something prepared for her. “These are a list of things I want you to check out.” 

+

She stared at the open computer screen, eyes intently trying to not skip over the hundreds of little black words on the page. All of the information she was receiving was confusing, scary, and made her insides churn a bit. 

But she hadn’t been able to wait. She’d needed yo know what Archie had running through his head. If it was something so incredibly off the charts and wrong, she wanted to correct him before he dived into it. If it was in the least bit helpful, she wanted to know what exactly they might be dealing with — what she might be dealing with, or suffering from. 

1\. Abandonment Issues. In which Emma would have trouble coming to terms with something they’d already been over. She’d skipped that pamphlet completely. 

2\. Little Space Role Playing. In which Emma would want to play the part of a little girl in bed during sexual relations with her partner. One thing was for certain, Emma did not want anything sexual coming from the whirlwind of thoughts floating throughout her head. If Archie thought she was simply beating around the bush, too embarrassed to say something about it, he was dead wrong. 

3\. Non Sexual Submission. In which Emma would submit to someone. In which she would follow rules and orders, and not have to continue this downward spiral of bad behavior. In which she wouldn’t feel out of control. She would have someone to care for her. Someone to make the decisions and take the control, and she would be absolutely content with herself. 

She read more into this one. Submission was a term she’d often associated with sexual relations, and she’d squinted as she read the first paragraph. 

It’d pretty much summed up the basics of what Emma was feeling. She wasn’t too sure she would like having to follow someone else’s rules, or if she would ever be able to submit to someone, and much less if anyone would not find it weird; but she knew it was what needed to be done. She’d need to pay better attention at listening, seeing as she could not bring this up to anyone else. 

But, first, she’d need to discover if this was what she truly wanted.


	2. ii. submissive side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regina looks back on it. She reflects deep and thinks hard, recalling the instances that stuck out to her the most.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this story contains no sexual content or smut. there will not be a sexual relationship between regina and emma. there will be mentions of depression and homophobia. there will be descriptions of panic and anxiety attacks, which may be a trigger. there will be alcohol, vulgar language, and slight violence. 
> 
> this is set in the canon universe, including magic and the enchanted forest. the setting is in storybrooke. set in my season four. robin and killian are long gone. emma is currently coming to terms with herself. snow is a tad bit overbearing. regina is a precious cinnamon roll. 
> 
> neal is dead. ruby and belle are in a flirtatious relationship. mal, ursula, and cruella are regina’s soft group of people. they don’t battle as many curses or monsters. 
> 
> this is non sexual submission. no sexual content involved. kissing, hugging, cuddles, and caretaking are involved.
> 
> parentheses are flashbacks.

“Do you think I act like a child?” 

( After answering her mother’s incoming spam calls, she’d told her that she would be returning to the loft for the night. She’d arrived at the mansion just after Henry had gotten home from school. If Regina was upset that she hadn’t returned or called after her session with Archie, she didn’t say anything. 

She smiled, placed a comforting hand on her shoulder while she scooped out some lasagna, and they’d discussed Henry’s day. Emma had managed to keep it in check. She’d managed to not appear as nervous or stressed as she felt. She’d laughed when Henry destroyed her house in Minecraft. She’d convinced Regina to let him stay up an hour later, and the three of them enjoyed a nice game of cards before the kid went to bed. 

Emma had kissed his forehead, and Regina had walked upstairs to tuck him in — though, that was a secret between the three of them, because Henry was in his too cool stage. It was all too domestic, and something Emma would have never even pictured for herself. 

She could now add it to the list of things she’d never pictured for herself, right under the latest one — Non Sexual Submission. Even the name sounded formal. 

Perhaps her nerves were now reacting, now that she didn’t have to put on a brave face for Henry. Perhaps her anxiety was what spurred her on to blurt the question before Regina even sat beside her on the couch. ) 

Regina blinked. What kind of question was that coming from Emma? 

“Did somebody say something?” She tilted her head, questioning. If someone had hurt Emma’s feelings, made her this insecure, Regina would probably revert to ripping our hearts again. Nobody would hurt the savior — not after all she’d done. 

“No. I’m just curious.” 

Emma was not a child. She may sometimes tease the blonde, but they both knew it was light hearted. Regina would never think anything less of her, and or as if Emma was at the bottom of any standing pyramid. 

“Really, Regina. I just want to know.” 

She could think of a few instances — where Emma, as put so delicately, acted childlike. 

( The first being in the way she ate. Too many times had Regina used her thumb to wipe donut powder from pale lips, claiming she’d needed to be presentable. Too many times she had offered up a napkin, or used it on the blonde herself. 

The second being in the way she stomped her foot or acted out when she did not get her way. She had seen Emma punch numerous walls, becoming so consumed with rage that she did not know how to properly conduct herself or let it out. Those were the times Regina had fought against her motherly instincts, choosing to not restrain her in a bear hug and help her figure it out, because bear hugs had always calmed Henry down. 

The way she pouted could be seen as childlike. Secretly, Regina found it adorable — though, she’d never quite used that word around her, fearing the delicacy of their relationship would crumble. Emma pouted over tons of things. She pouted when Ruby announced they were out of bear claws, or whenever Snow cut her off from drinking at a gathering, or even when Regina forced her to complete her paperwork on time. Of course, Regina knew it wasn’t just playful pouting. Emma was genuinely disappointed in those times. 

The way she threw herself in for hugs — only ever when they were joking with Henry in the middle. The way she flopped dramatically onto the couch, or insisted on using tactics such as poking to get Regina’s attention. 

There was a childlike qualities about Emma, but Regina did not want Emma to change herself — especially if it was to fit somebody else’s standards. ) 

“I suppose. . . You do attain some childlike qualities. I suppose we all do at times.” She waited. She watched as Emma eyed the bottled water set out on the coffee table. “Why, dear?” 

Emma did the shrugging thing. “I’m just curious.” Her voice was low and quiet. She didn’t know what she was hoping for, or why she was even entertaining this idea in the first place. 

( Was there even an idea to entertain? If so, what? Because it still was not making any sense. All she’d gotten was more information thrown at her. ) 

“Does this have anything to do with Archie?” Another shrug. She cursed herself for acting this way. “How did it go with him today?” 

( She was a bit surprised Regina didn’t ask where she’d run off to afterwards. ) 

“It was okay. Therapy is never fun.” A repeated phrase, but a different reaction. 

“That, it is not. I suppose we have that in common.” 

“Would you ever go with me?” Another blurted out sentence before Emma could finish her thought. Sometimes, she wished there was an invisible tape over her mouth to stop herself from asking ridiculous questions. 

Regina, for her part, looked surprised. She was aware of the few sessions Emma had with both of her parents. She’d never had one with Henry, because Emma was so afraid of her emotional baggage damaging him. 

“If you want me there.” Always by her side for support. This hadn’t changed in nearly a year and a half. 

( Why did she want Regina there? What did she want Regina there for? Certainly not their current topic. Never this topic. ) 

+

Her body filled with dread the second she bid Regina goodnight. The second Regina had closed the door, after gently rubbing her shoulder and assuring her that Emma could call if she’d needed anything at anytime; her entire being felt dread. 

Dread at going home, at facing her mother. They were lucky enough to get out of family dinner at Granny’s with her parents and brother. Surely, now that Emma hadn’t seen them in nearly two days, she was bound to be attacked with questions. Questions she didn’t want to answer. Questions she didn’t know if she could answer. 

“How was dinner?” A simple one. 

Everything was still, yet again, so jumbled up. She felt as though her brain was a fridge, and the words being tossed around were those rainbow colored letter magnets, and a little kid was continuously moving them. 

She gave a half smile. “It was good. Henry wasn’t feeling too well.” The excuse they’d come up with. 

“Is he alright?” Motherly concern. Emma felt grateful that her mother cared so much. She smiled when it was about her son, but could never bring herself to feel anything other than awkward where she was concerned. 

“He’s fine. He has Regina.” She wishes she had Regina. Regina kept her calm, had her back. She supported her, and wouldn’t hesitate to go against Snow for her. 

“What about you?” 

It was dark, nearly ten thirty. Her father was nowhere to be seen. Her brother was probably sleeping in his room. The only source of light was the lamp sitting on the stand. The only source of motion was Snow, sitting on the couch, interrogating her. 

She didn’t have to voice her response — what about me? 

Snow most certainly did not know Emma as well as she’d like to think, but she knows enough. She knows when Emma wants to say something, but is holding back. “Are you alright? This is the first time I’ve seen you since you left for work yesterday.” 

( Which, really, in retrospect, wasn’t all that terrible. Emma did not feel the need to be around her parents constantly. She liked having her space. She liked being her own person, doing her own things without having to change it for her parents. She’d never be able to get anything done if they were constantly watching her. She would fear they were critiquing her every move. ) 

She took a deep breath. “There was a lot of paperwork.” 

“David said you called in?” 

( If she could have taken twenty deep breaths in that instant, she would have. She was caught in a lie, having momentarily forgotten her parents share everything. 

“Deep breaths, Emma.” She could hear Regina’s smooth voice in her ear, reminding her everytning would be okay. “You’re alright. You’re safe.” She remembered the pressure on her back. Only now, the hand wasn’t there. It wouldn’t be until Emma’s body betrayed her in front of the woman again. “Another one. In and out.” ) 

“Regina did. There were things we needed to go over about Henry.” 

( “Good. You’re doing well.” Regina’s voice right next to her ear. Regina’s perfume invading her senses. Emma leaning into her touch, craving her comfort. ) 

“Paperwork about Henry?” Snow was skeptical, narrowing her eyes. 

Emma was not known to be a liar. “Yes, Mom! Paperwork about Henry!” She was losing her cool. Deep breaths be damned. She was allowed to have her own life. She didn’t have to share everything with her mother. She didn’t want to share everything with her mother. “He is our son!” 

Frustration was growing. Annoyance felt hot on her skin. The warm bed she’d been looking forward to crawling into, no longer seemed appealing. The only thing she wanted, in the exact moment, was to hit something. Not a person, never a person. Maybe a pillow, because Regina had lectured her the last time it was a wall. 

“I know that, Emma.” Her mother was now looking at her as if she had overreacted, or was causing a scene for absolutely no reason. She probably was, picking a fight because of the war she had going on inside of her own head; but, her mother was too damn nosy sometimes. 

( “You cannot take your emotions out on other people.” Emma had watched Regina scold Henry, after he’d gotten sent home from school for roughly shoving another student, only mere weeks after Neal’s death. “Just because you are feeling hurt and angry inside, does not mean you are allowed to take it out on other people.” 

Emma couldn’t help but think how lucky Henry was to have Regina as a mother. He was going to turn out to be a genuinely good kid. He would know right from wrong, because he had a mother who cared enough to teach him. He had a mother who corrected him when he was wrong, and set boundaries so he didn’t turn into a little heathen. 

“We are here for you, Henry. Anytime you need to talk, we are right here.” She tilted his chin. Emma found herself hanging onto Regina’s every word, listening more intently than even Henry. “You are allowed to be upset. It is perfectly okay for you to be angry and upset. What’s not okay, is hitting people.” ) 

Guilt. Guilt was taking over her. She couldn’t snap at Snow, just because of her inner feelings. 

“I know.” A deep breath. “I know you know that. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap.” 

( “How did you know what to say?” Emma leaned against the study, arms crossed over her chest. Henry had stormed up to his bedroom in a huff, after Regina announced his grounding. 

Regina’s eyes searched the blonde’s face, as she took a few steps closer. “Years of practice, Miss Swan.” Emma didn’t move. “Henry is like you in this sense. He acts before he thinks, where his feelings are involved. His anger becomes too much for him, and, as his mother, it is my job to remind him what is okay and not okay.” ) 

A sympathetic smile from Snow. A look of understanding, as she crossed the room to stand before her daughter, and brought a hand to rest briefly on her cheek. 

“Whatever is going on, your father and I are here.” More guilt. This time, because she didn’t lean into her mother’s comfort. If anything, her stomach now churned, and she wanted the hand to be gone. “Get some rest.” A kiss was placed to her forehead, before the hand was finally removed and Emma watched her mother walk out. 

Dread invaded her body once more. 

+

Regina was suspicious. Emma had acted off the whole night. Something heavy was weighing down on the blonde’s mind, and Regina could only hope it would be figured out soon. She didn’t know how many panic attacks she could guide Emma through, before finally demanding to know what was upsetting her. 

( “Do you think I act like a child?” What kind of question had that been? What kind of answer, or response, was Emma looking for? Did she want Regina to insult her? ) 

Emma did act younger, but Regina knew a large part of that stemmed from not having a healthy childhood growing up. She hadn’t had anyone to call her family, or anyone to bother caring for her. She had been all alone, scared and lost, wishing for a family. Nobody had ever taught her right from wrong, or helped her to mature into an adult. 

( “Miss Swan, I know you are not about to fall asleep on my couch,” Regina had warned, after one family movie night consisting of the avengers, after Henry had went upstairs to bed. Emma was curled up in the corner of their shared couch, head resting on the arm, body covered with the soft grey blanket Regina kept for these nights. 

A string of mumbled words passed through Emma’s lips, as Regina shifted to get a better look at her. She was glad they were now pretty comfortable in their relationship, with Henry no longer having to act as a buffer; yet, she knew Emma would be incredibly embarrassed to learn she had fallen asleep here. 

“Emma, dear, time to wake up.” Green eyes were shut firmly. Her golden curls splayed around in a mess. Her face relayed the message of peace, something their great white savior rarely attained. “I will make you your own apple pie tomorrow, if you wake up right now and return home, so I do not have to deal with your mother pounding on this door in the morning.” 

That did the trick. Emma’s eyes fluttered open. She furrowed her brow for half a minute, groggy and disoriented, before frowning deeply. “I’m tired.” She narrowed her eyes accusingly, clutching onto the blanket. 

Regina smiled lightly. Perhaps if she baked her two apple pies? ) 

In some instances, Regina felt like she was parenting Emma through Henry. At first, Regina merely though Emma was just so clueless on how to be a parent; but, now, Regina knew it was because nobody had done these things for Emma. Along the way of teaching Henry, she was also teaching Emma. 

( “I’s good!” Slurred words around a mouthful of food tumbled from Emma’s mouth, as she directed her words at Ruby. She gave a thumbs up, using her fork to cut more into her slice of Granny’s pecan pie. Regina watched from across the booth. This was just such an Emma thing to do, talk with her mouth full. Just last week, Regina had to remind Henry not to do it, and it’s not a surprise where he had learned it from. 

“Manners, Emma,” she corrected gently, ignoring Ruby’s smirk at her words. “Slow down. Would you like to choke?” She could see the faintest or blushes creeping up the sheepish blonde’s face, as Ruby patted her shoulder and moved to walk away. 

Regina quirked a brow with patience, waiting until Emma swallowed her food and offered a half smile. “Sorry.” 

“It’s okay, dear. We all need reminders.” ) 

Maybe Emma did need more reminders than most, but that did not mean anything. There was nothing wrong with her intelligence level, or anything that suggested she was not functioning properly. It was merely simple, childish things. Things you would teach a child. Things Regina had taught, and Emma had never been taught. 

( “What the hell, Regina?” The doors to her office her pushed open, as Emma came barging through in her fit of anger. It clouded over the blonde’s face, alerting Regina to the fact that this woman was unhappy. She wore it clear and plain as day. 

Quirking a brow, Regina sighed. “Do you want to try that again?” She would not tolerate Henry’s sour attitude, nor would she tolerate Emma’s. Not over something that was merely a fit because of the lack of sleep Mary Margaret had informed her of. 

“No!” Arms crossed over her chest in defiance. “I want to know why the hell you changed my schedule! I had the night shifts all of this week!” 

“Your mother informed me of your sleeping patterns, or lack thereof, and I merely suggested to your father that you could do with a better night’s sleep.” Surely, she had given David a bit of an incentive, promising morning donuts for the rest of the week if he could switch the schedule; but, she’d done it for Emma’s own benefit. She couldn’t have a sleep deprived sheriff running around the streets. She could get seriously injured, or perhaps pass out from exhaustion. 

“Why would you do that?” Conducting herself, once again, as though an angry toddler might. Regina was surprised she hadn’t stomped her foot yet.

Patience was a virtue. Regina had to keep reminding herself that. She had to be as gentle and patient with Emma, as she was with Henry. “Because, I happen to care, Emma.” The blonde’s face changed. Owlish eyes blinked up at her, confused, bewildered. “I care about what happens to you. Henry cares about what happens to you. You need a proper night’s rest if you’re going to be running around, chasing down the bad guys.” ) 

Regina remembers how in shock Emma was. She was in shock that somebody cared, that more than one person cared. That she now had a family, and that family was looking out for her. It was new to her — because, for the past twelve years, Regina and Henry had that with each other. Regina had to teach herself a new sense of the family, and she’s passed it on to their son. Now, they were passing that onto Emma. 

+

Emma — Sorry for freaking you out earlier. You don’t have to go with me. I’m fine alone. 

( Emma internally cringed as she sent the text. Part of that sounded as though she was fishing for Regina’s attention, for her care; but, really, guilt was taking hold where the dread had been. She never wanted to put Regina in an awful situation, or to make her feel obligated to do something — especially for her, given their relations. ) 

It was a mere three minutes later when her phone brightened again, Regina’s contact invading the screen. Emma’s fingers hurried to click on it, to open it, to read what she had said. 

( She always enjoyed reading Regina’s text messages the most. )

Regina — You did not freak me out. I want to go with you to therapy, if you’ll have me. You’re not alone, and you will never be fine on your own. You need people, Emma. You need your family. That’s what we are here for. 

( If tears did threaten to prick her eyes, she was blaming it on the overly emotional week she’d had. )

Emma — I want you there. 

Regina — Then I’ll be there. 

Green eyes casted away, down at the bed sheets covering her twin sized mattress. They were white with little red roses on them, something Emma would have never picked out for herself. 

Regina — You should really be sleeping right now. 

( That made her eyes widen just a bit. She’d remembered vividly the way Regina had rearranged her schedule for this particular reason before. ) 

Emma — I’m fine. 

( A child’s response. A stubborn child. ) 

Regina — Stop saying that. You are not fine, especially after the long week you have endured. Need I remind you how important it is to be well rested? Do I need to make some changes to the schedule again? 

Emma — Leave my schedule alone. 

Regina — Goodnight, Emma. I hope you sleep well, my dear. I will see you tomorrow. 

( Emma barely had enough time to click her phone off and set it on the nightstand, as a warmth began to fill her chest and her eyes were slipping closed. Content at last, all because of Regina. She could rest now. )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to shakespearianscribe
> 
> after much consideration and helpful advice, i’ve decided this will be a non-sexual age play story. it is still mainly a non-sexual submission fic, in which emma will eventually be submitting to regina. following rules and orders, learning the ways she didn’t as a foster kid. 
> 
> regina will still be the caretaker. emma will be the one submitting. she will struggle with this for a little while, but non-sexual age play seems like the best way to go, alongside the submission. this means that emma sometimes can’t express what she is feeling in an age-appropriate and/or verbal manner. emma lacks structure and age appropriate coping mechanisms.
> 
> ( two quotes pulled from my helpful reader’s comments ^ ) 
> 
> if you have any suggestions or things you’d might like to see, feel free to leave a comment! any information or advice will be accepted! thank you for reading!


	3. iii. shifted dynamics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma is as exhausted as she looks. That much is clear when she drops her head down to rest against her arms, eyes looking up at Regina with a miserable gleam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it’s been awhile. i do have struggles in my personal life, but i am also deciding to edit this story. i have developed a bit of a new format over the past few short months. i will be editing and re-writing a few scenes — but don’t worry, all your favorite scenes that you’ve read so far will remain here. 
> 
> but before i begin to rewrite and edit, i wanted to give you something to bring you back to this story. i wrote this chapter before personal struggles and writing struggles took over btw. 
> 
> chapter reminders — this is a non-sexual story. no sexual content will occur. this focuses on non-sexual submission, and non-sexual intimacy. but it will include non-sexual age play. emma is the submissive, regina is the caretaker. 
> 
> thank you to everyone who has read and commented, left kudos and bookmarked. i am extremely appreciative of all of you! i greatly enjoy reading all of your comments! any advice, questions, concerns, or suggestions you may have; feel free to leave in the comments! i try to respond to as many as i can. 
> 
> writing this has helped me to cope with certain things in my life. it provides a bit of an escape, and i like knowing my readers enjoy my content. thank you <3

Saturday is marked unofficially as Swan-Mills family breakfast day.

Their schedule had gotten all sorts of mixed up, with bailing out on her parents the previous night. Henry didn’t seemed to mind. He took it with a grain of salt, adjusting accordingly. He was a kid who knew how to adapt to change quickly. It had taken him far less time to cope with everything that had happened, and Emma was supposed to be the adult. 

She was still coping, still trapped within her own inner turmoil. While Henry was having the time of his life, going to the movies with friends and school dances with Grace. Emma knew how much the family time meant to her son, and she felt incredibly guilty over ruining it last night. 

“Hey, kid.” She looked up from the booth she was sitting in, voice a bit raspy from her sleep deprivation. “I’m sorry about last night. You know we’re still on for tomorrow?” 

Tomorrow, they would have to drag Regina into the loft, despite Emma seeing through the older woman’s attempts. She would complain and roll her eyes, but Emma knew how much Regina valued the closest people in her life now. They all valued this time together.

“It’s cool, Ma,” Henry waved her off with his hands, draping his windbreaker over the back of their side. He had this habit of always running ahead of Regina, racing up to the counter to order for all of them, leaving his mother’s to sit across from each other. The habit did not break, it seemed, when Regina stepped in only moments later, black fur coat trailing behind her. “Coffee and pancakes?” 

He tilted his head, reminding Emma so much of the way they are unhealthily in New York. Every morning was an adventure of sugar, and Emma often ordered food to be delivered, as she was never taught any cooking skills. “Yeah, kid. Get your Mom what she wants.” 

She watched him go, puffing out his chest and grinning at Ruby from behind the counter. Intent on not yet speaking to Regina, still embarrassed from her former actions, she laid her head down on her arm. Face pressed close to the table, so close that she could smell the syrup of people who’d eaten here before them. 

Regina doesn’t stop to talk to anyone else. She beelines for their table, removing her coat, and sliding in to hers and Henry’s side. “Good morning, Sheriff.” Emma only grunts in response. Regina knows this could possibly be the blonde’s playful dramatics; though, she tests the waters anyway. “Everything alright?” 

Everything is not alright. That much is clear when Emma lifts her head a bit, enough for her companion to see the dark circles under her eyes, and the exhaustion on her face. 

“I thought I told you to get some rest?” She raises a pointed eyebrow, because she is serious about rearranging Emma’s schedule again. She does not like this tired, drowsy side of Emma. She looks absolutely miserable, save for the smile that spreads across her face whenever Henry comes into view. 

“I did,” Emma nods, tangled blonde waves swirling. She hadn’t bothered to run a brush through it, her arm having felt like it could barely move. “He was up screaming at three in the goddamned morning.” 

“Do watch your language,” Regina corrects lightly, casting a look in their son’s direction. He’s chatting it up with Ruby, waiting for their food tray to be ready. Her eyes are sympathetic, understanding the troubles of a sleepless toddler. “I’m sorry your night was interrupted. Maybe you should rest before tonight?” 

( Emma was a bit taken back by both admissions in that statement. The first ; Regina was actually acknowledging her participation in their dinner tonight? The second : Regina telling her to take a nap? Emma Swan was no stranger to naps, but it felt different coming from Regina, as if she was a cranky child who was being sentenced to her quiet time. ) 

“I’m good.” There she went, yet again, pushing away her own needs. “I just need to find my own place.” 

At this age, she didn’t know anyone else who still lived with their parents. It wasn’t as if she was clinging to their relationship, after being apart for so long. If anything, it was the other way around. Emma wanted space, but she didn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings, and she wasn’t sure if she could live alone again. She knew that she would have to; though, she hadn’t lived alone in so long. 

Her mother would probably burst into tears at just the idea of it, and her father would get that disappointed look on his face. Emma wouldn’t be able to stand it. But living with overbearing, smothering parents, and a toddler, was not ideal for anyone. How many more nights could she go without a proper rest? 

“You have a place,” Regina said easily. “With Henry.” 

Emma’s eyebrows shot up to her hairline. If the exhaustion could be snapped out of her, Regina’s words would’ve done it. She needed to tread carefully, not wanting to misinterpret the situation. 

“What. . . Henry can still visit, Regina. It’s not like I’m moving far. I don’t even know if I can move,” she rambled, knowing this was pushing into different territory. “Are you saying. . . What are you saying, exactly?” 

Regina couldn’t stop the soft laugh from escaping her lips. Emma looked incredibly flustered, cheeks flushing the lightest shade of pink. “I’m saying you could move in with Henry. Henry and I. You could move in with us.” 

She was just as nervous, though she tried to keep calm. If Emma rejected the proposal, all would be destroyed. If she accepted, their relationships could change. The thought had been in the back of Regina’s mind for awhile now. It would be easier on Henry, easier on both of their schedules. She bore witness to most of Emma’s daily habits already, and found the majority of them to be quite endearing. If she could enjoy spending constant periods of time around the blonde, the new living situation wouldn’t be a drastic negative change. 

“What? Are you sure?” The words spit rapidly from her mouth. “No, Regina. I don’t want to impose, or whatever. You don’t have to do this. I can find my own place.” 

“You are not an obligation, Emma.” Regina reached out, hand finding Emma’s on the tiled surface. “I know that I don’t have to do this. But I want to. I would be honored if you came to live with us, for however long you may choose. We have the spare room. I’d like to think you think of me as a decent housemate?” 

Emma nodded quickly. “Yes. Of course, you’re a good roommate. But. . .” She glanced back to Henry. He was currently grabbing a stack of napkins and plastic silverware. “Would Henry be okay with it?” 

( What a silly question, she knew. They had lived just the two of them before; though, it was revealed to be fake. She knew that he loved having her around. But, to make it permanent? She had never been a permanent fixture in anyone’s lives before Storybrooke. ) 

“I believe you already know the answer to that,” Regina tilted her head, smiling. It was a trait Henry must have picked up from her, the head tilting. It really brought out their softest features. “However, I should ask him beforehand.” 

Emma was stunned by her next move. She didn’t think she’d ever seen the Mayor act so carefree before. The second Henry set their tray on the table, coffee and pancakes in sight; Regina ushered him to sit down, taking one of his hands in her own. 

“Henry, how would you feel about Emma coming to live with us?” The sight on Emma’s face was heart aching. Her big green eyes, awaiting his approval, fearful of rejection. She was hopeful, and Regina thought that ought to count for something. 

Henry’s eyes sparkled. “Are you kidding?” When Regina shook her head, the biggest beam spread across his face. He looked to Emma, nearly bouncing in his seat. “That would be awesome!” The relief flooded the blonde’s features, and Regina felt a weight being removed from her chest. “We can play video games all night! Get pizza and ice cream for dinner! We won’t have to use pillows to cover our ears because of Uncle Neal!” 

He was rambling in excitement now, reaching for his plastic knife and fork, and his own stack of pancakes. Regina chuckled, hand extending for her own mug of caffeine. “That is what you think, mister. I won’t have our house turning into a zoo.” 

Emma found herself laughing. Despite all of the current inner struggles, she was laughing. 

\+ 

The hardest part was going to be telling them. Telling Snow and David that Emma was leaving. Regina understood her anxiety. The reason her knee was bouncing the entire car ride over there. They’d spent the day lounging around the mansion, a safe zone for them all, catching up on paperwork and not discussing the major change too intimately just yet. Regina had even been the one to coax the two to start getting ready for dinner. 

Emma was a bit surprised, growing used to her faux complaints. She was sure that she’d have to promise to buy Granny’s coffee for the next week. Instead, she found it was herself who dreaded to go. She tried to prolong their leaving. Making sure everyone had their cell phones, Regina had her purse, even that Henry’s socks matched. 

Their son seemed a bit confused by her behavior, but didn’t have to question it. He knew that she was a bit nervous at their reactions, as he was fully aware his grandmother had the tendency to overreact at times. Regina was grateful for his ability to keep Emma the slightest bit calm. He had put his hand on her shoulder briefly, before he had exited the car. 

“Grams will understand.” 

Emma had watched him go, leaving herself and Regina to exit the vehicle at their own accord. She kept her eyes trained on him, until he was safely inside the building. Even then, she watched the building, hoping he would run back out and they didn’t have to face this tonight. Perhaps she would be ready tomorrow night? A week from now? 

“Emma,” Regina’s voice broke through her reverie. “We don’t have to do this tonight. We can do this at your pace. No one is going to rush you.” 

But she knew how badly Emma needed her sleep, how much she craved to get away from the smothering. “No,” Emma shook her head. She couldn’t wait to begin the move, to make it official. Finally having her home with her son, and his mother, made her heart swell with happiness; despite how much hurt she knew it would cause. “No. I want to do this. I want to sleep without a crying baby.” 

Regina’s hand found her shoulder. It was as if she could see the battle within Emma. She didn’t even have to speak, and Regina’s thumb was rubbing across her leather jacket, firm enough that Emma’s skin could feel it. 

( It reminded her of the hand on her back. The pressure. The reminder that Regina was right there. Regina would be right there, by her side, to help deal with the fallout of whatever her parents reaction would be. They were now unified, in more ways than one. Perhaps this new agreement was shifting their dynamics? ) 

“You will. There is no crying baby at our house, unless you count Henry when I take away the game controller,” Regina attempted, to only gain a small chuckle, green eyes flitting to meet hers. Once she was sure she had the eye contact, she pressed down a bit harder with her thumb. “I am right here. Henry will be right there. We aren’t going to leave you. This is your decision.” 

“I know,” Emma nodded. She needed to snap out of it. She needed to get the show on the road, stop taking up too much of Regina’s time with her childish antics. She needed to force herself to go through with it; and that is exactly what she did, forcing her body to move. Her legs swung toward the car door, pushing it open quickly, and letting Regina’s hand fall from her shoulder. “Let’s get it over with.” 

+

Snow White is cooking a ham for dinner. The smell of maple honey hits Regina’s nose the second they walk in, not bothering to remove their shoes. Hers could hardly track anything in, and she fears stepping on one of Neal’s toys. Emma makes no move to take her sneakers off, either; only walks a half step in front of Regina, and leads her into the kitchen. 

This Emma is a different Emma from just moments ago. This Emma straightens her shoulders, stiffens up a bit, and puts on her brave adult face. This Emma does not lean into Regina for comfort, and Regina finds that Emma mostly avoids looking at her entirely until they’re seated. ( She pretends not to notice, not keeping her eyes on Emma for too long. She accepts a water, helps set out the silverware, and takes a seat across from Henry at the table. ) 

Emma sits beside her, leaving Regina at one end of the table. Beside Henry is Snow, which makes her directly across from Emma, and David sits on Emma’s other side, with Neal in his high hair at the very opposite end. He bangs his hands on the tray across his stomach, pushing his Cheerios around and gurgling. Regina observes the way Emma tries to not even look in his general direction, and she knows why. 

( She knows all about Emma’s issues with her brothers. Knows that Emma tries incredibly hard to not blame him, to not take it out on him; but, sometimes, her anger becomes too much. Knows that Emma does not blame her, but gets hurt whenever her mother fawns over Neal in a way that nobody ever did for her. ) 

“Regina,” Snow starts with a smile, just as she sets her glass back onto the table. “How are you?” 

“Busy with work. This town doesn’t run by itself.” She throws in a small jab, smiling, despite Henry’s half smirk in her direction. Her son never fails to notice her sly comments, despite the fact that they’re friendly now. “What about you?” 

“I’ve been a little busy. I didn’t realize trying to get paperwork done with a child running around was so difficult,” Snow laughs easily. “Yesterday, Neal spilled his grape juice all over my grade reports.” 

Emma flinches. It’s subtle, and something the blonde probably hopes will go unnoticed, but Regina notices. She sees Emma’s hand move quickly to ensure she doesn’t drop her fork, and she stuffs pieces of ham into her mouth. Henry doesn’t notice, as he’s also shoving food into his mouth. Snow is too busy pouring out a few more Cheerios onto Neal’s tray. The fact that David doesn’t take notice, when he’s also sitting right beside her, concerns Regina a bit. How much did Emma get away with while here? How much hurt did Emma hide in plain sight?

“Speaking of paperwork,” Snow turns her head, eyes landing on Regina again. “How did everything go with Henry?” 

Emma lifts her head now, big green eyes casting toward Regina. She’d placed the lie and last night’s interaction out of her mind, wanting to push away all of her uncomfortable feelings over the last few days. She hadn’t expected her mother to bring it up, questioning Regina as if she knew Emma had been lying. Perhaps it was concern, or perhaps her mother didn’t believe her. Emma wouldn’t blame her. She did lie. 

After all of this time spent with Regina, Emma likes to think she knows her better than most in the town. She knows that Regina is a bit surprised, just by the way her brow lifts slightly, but she does a good job of covering it up. She’d always been good at having her mask up, and Emma sometimes admired her ability to keep up a poker face in front of people. She didn’t alert Snow or David to her surprise. She simply put on a, somewhat faux, smile. 

“Everything’s fine.” Her voice left no room for further questions. That was another thing about Regina — always knowing how to shut down arguments or rumors before they’d even begun. She knew better than anyone how nosy Snow White could be, and how much it annoyed Emma. She would pry and pry until she got her desired answers, and Emma had other pressing matters on her mind tonight.

Those pressing matters were right in the front of Emma’s mind, weighing down on her immensely. She wanted to blurt it out, wanted to start the moving process as soon as possible, wanted to not be at a loss for sleep. The words were on the tip of her tongue, nearly frustrating her with how badly she wanted to say it; but the fear was there. Clear as water. Plain as day. She was very much anxious about telling them, though it was her choice. Her decision. She shouldn’t be this nervous about it — she knows that, knows that she wouldn’t have been if this took place nearly a year or two ago. 

As her ‘Mommy Issues’ would seem, her fear of rejection is still there. So many foster parents gave her up for things they didn’t like, things she did. She knew they wouldn’t give her up again. Couldn’t give her up, as she was a grown adult and they had waited all of this time to be with her. But, the fear of disappointing them, of making them react negatively, was prominent. 

Regina could sense this. Emma didn’t know how or why, but Regina read her mind. She reads her inner turmoil, and does not hesitate to slip her hand under the table, finding Emma’s. It’s not totally uncommon and out of nowhere, given their precious affections, but Emma still feels a bit shocked. She feels the lump grow in her throat, and tries to push it away, squeezing Regina’s hand. 

Regina doesn’t push for anything. She lets Emma take the lead, drawing her fingers over the brunette’s, swirling in circles until their fingers interlock. She waits patiently, allows Emma to rub her thumb in nervous circles against the side of her smooth skin. She knows Emma needs this, lets her have this, perhaps to help her feel the slightest bit in control of her calming process.

“Mom. Dad.” Emma dives right in. She doesn’t want to feel like she’s swimming anymore. They both look to her. Henry looks up from his plate. Regina sets her napkin down on the side of her plate, and Emma squeezes tighter. “I have something to tell you.” They’re waiting, on the edge of their seats with anticipation. “I made a decision. We made a decision.” 

Henry’s eyes are so similar to Regina’s. Deep, caring, comforting. Reminding her of what she is about to do, of the choice they’d made together. Emma’s head is still swimming. No blurry vision yet, no blue seas to drown in. 

“I’m moving.” She wants to gasp. She wants to breathe deeply and feel the relief flood through her. But her mother looks about ready to protest, without even knowing the full set of information, and her father looks perplexed. He would be easier to break through to. He would accept it. She should have told him first. “I’m moving in with Henry and Regina.” 

She lessens her grip on Regina’s hand, though the familiar feeling of pressure returns. Regina’s hand in her own is a constant pressure, just like the one that had been on her back to center her. Regina’s hand is guiding her, but Emma is in control. 

Her chest threatens to heave. Her voice threatens to crack. Her eyes threaten to give way to tears. She doesn’t want to hurt them. She doesn’t want to see the look of disappointment on their face, doesn’t know if she can handle that. “I won’t be completely gone. I’ll still visit. You’ll still visit. It will still be a few days before we can move everything. But. . . This is what’s best for Henry. Best for all of us.” 

Her mother sees right through her. Admittedly, Emma was more scared of her reaction, more scared of disappointing her. “Emma, are you sure?” It’s slow, as if Emma was not in the right mindset. She may have confusing feelings swarming around her body, but she is perfectly aware in this moment. “I understand that you want to raise Henry together, but. . . is this what you both want? What you all want?” 

Emma can feel her throat threaten to close up. She squeezes Regina’s hand once, but Regina has already gotten the message. She breathes for them. She answers for them with confidence and an easy smile. “Yes, Snow. I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t completely sure. Emma is Henry’s mother, too.” 

“And why can’t she be his mother here?” Snow is just confused and surprised — Regina tells herself to keep from snapping. Emma’s eyebrows raise up, a sign that she had been a bit startled by her mother’s sudden question, the slight raise in her voice. Green eyes look to her. Emma looks to her. Henry looks to her. 

“Well, frankly, there isn’t enough space.” She matches Emma’s grip on her hand. She doesn’t want to reveal too much without the blonde’s permission. “We have more than enough room for Emma to live more than comfortably.” 

But Snow is not looking at her anymore. She’s looking at Emma, who looks like she’s regretting her words and wants to be anywhere but here. “Are you not comfortable here, Em?” 

“No, Mom — it’s not like that!” Emma is desperate for her to understand, but she knows that she’ll have to use her words. “I am comfortable here. It’s just. . .” She focuses on Neal, chubby baby cheeks and the perfect picture of innocence. It’s not his fault. Not baby Neal’s fault. “He cries every night. He cries all day. I can’t get work done. Henry can’t get work done. It’ll just be easier at Regina’s.” 

“We understand that no one here can control Neal’s crying,” Regina steps in. “Whether we like it or not, it is affecting Emma’s sleep schedule and behavior. She cannot get enough rest to properly take care of herself, or Henry, or her duties as Sheriff.” 

“So, this is about Neal?” Snow questions. “Em, your father and I do not love you any less.” She doesn’t understand, Emma realizes. “Just because we had Neal, it doesn’t make you any less of our daughter.” 

“That’s not what this is about.” Because it’s not. It never was a question of their love for her. “I need my own space. I want to be closer to Henry. I need to be able to get my work done, and I can’t do that here.” 

Regina was proud of Emma. Expressing her wants and needs, however small or big, had always been a struggle. To see her expressing them to her mother made Regina’s heart swell. She was learning how to properly communicate, one small step at a time. It would take a lot of therapy sessions with Archie, and a lot more reassurance and help and comfort from them all; but Emma was getting better at it. 

“I understand, Emma.” David had been silent since Emma’s admission, but his words relieved Emma. She turned to him, tears in her eyes. The dam had broke, and Emma was halfway between swimming and drowning. “It’s just been so good to have you here, to keep you close and safe.” Emma fought the urge to cringe, because she knew how much it meant to him, how emotional he could get over the thought of losing her again. “But I understand you need your space. I’m sorry we didn’t realize this sooner. We couldn’t keep you here forever.” 

Her hand slipped from Regina’s, as she moved from her chair to hug him, glad that he had understood. He was so much better at handling his emotions, not flying off the handle or overly crying in front of her. She knew her Mom tried, but it just wasn’t the same. She didn’t have that tight control over her emotions, and Emma was surprised she hadn’t begun openly sobbing yet. 

Still seated in her chair, arms around her father, accepting his kiss to her head; she feels Regina’s hand come into contact with her leg now. Just before her knee, another silent reminder that she is there. 

When Emma pulls back, wiping her tears, she laughs a bit. “This wasn’t supposed to be so emotional.” She needed to gain back that control, as she wiped all of the tears from her cheeks, and slid her hand over the top of Regina’s. She didn’t connect their fingers this time, merely let hers rest atop the brunette’s. 

“Mom?” When she looks at Snow, she sees tears. It’s not the open sobbing she expected, but it’s still an emotional reaction. She’s almost glad that her reaction is low on the scale, though she’s a bit embarrassed at how their dinner had turned out. She hadn’t meant to lose control, hadn’t meant for any of them to. She feels bad that Henry had to see this. 

“Like your father said, we just don’t want to lose you!” It is not what her father said exactly, but the implication is still there. Emma rises from her seat, despite how much cringe she is feeling at this moment, and she loses all physical contact with Regina. Though, she feels brown eyes on her, as she crosses the room to wrap her arms around her mother. 

She gives her parents this moment. She gives her mother this emotional hug, because her mother is giving her this acceptance at moving away. 

+

When it’s all said and done, Regina also blows out a big sigh of relief. Snow had used more than enough tissues to dry up her tears, but she had ended the night with a big hug to all of them, already beginning to make plans to order boxes for Emma’s moving day, and how to label them. David had offered Regina a genuine smile, but nothing more, and she was perfectly content with that. She didn’t need anything more. She wasn’t doing this for them by any means. She was doing this for Emma and Henry. 

“I’m sorry you had to see all of that, kid.” Emma nudges him, as Regina fishes out her keys for the house, and they stand on the porch. They’d managed to convince Snow that Emma would be back tomorrow night for good, but she wanted to ‘test out her new place’ for the night. Regina knew she just wanted to escape the emotions, and was more than happy to drive them all home. It was all of their home. 

Regina watches as her sweet boy wraps his arms around Emma’s torso, head coming to rest against her shoulder. Emma looks more at ease, more comfortable, in Henry’a hugs than anybody else’s. She hugs him back tighter, presses a kiss to his forehead. 

“It’s okay, Ma.” He whispers, and Emma fights the new wave of tears threatening to fill her eyes. She is done with tears for the night. “I’m glad you’re living with us now.” 

“Me too.” It’s the most honest thing Regina has heard all night. 

When they walk upstairs as a trio, Henry heads straight for his bathroom, claiming he needs to shower. Regina rolls her eyes playfully, and Emma practically pushes him away, making jokes about his teenage stench. Once they’re safely behind the walls and door of the guest room, and Regina is conjuring up a set of fresh sheets for Emma, and some of her pajamas as well; she looks to her with a genuine, sincere, kind of care in her eyes. 

“I’m proud of you.” Emma’s head whips up, eyes glossing over in confusion. “You told your parents what you needed. You told them your decision, Emma.” 

Emma gives a slight nod, chuckling. “Yeah. Archie’s gonna have a field day with this.” But Regina’s praise means more. Regina was proud of her. That’s not something Emma had heard a lot as a child. To hear it now, coming from someone who meant a lot to Emma, almost made her want to cry again. 

( Praise. Some caregivers may praise their submissive. ) 

But Regina didn’t know what she was doing. Part of Emma felt guilty about sneaking around, seemingly manipulating things with her mind. If Regina did know about this, if she understood any of it any better than Emma did, Emma didn’t think she’d react kindly. She didn’t want to think of Regina being her caregiver, because she did not need one. Regina was her friend. Her partner in most things. 

Still, without a clue, Regina continued to be her partner.


End file.
